The boy Tony has been in a good mood these last few days, and he says it's all because that the start of the football (soccer) season is just a few weeks away.
Football, to Tony, is like a drug, and whilst he agrees that summertime in London can be great, there's nothing better than going to the pub on a Saturday afternoon, drinking vast amounts of lager, and watching his favourite team play on the pub's big screen television.
I reckon the boy is right to take pleasure from the simpler things in life, and even he agrees that although he loves to upset tourists in our favourite pub, threaten people for no apparent reason and say nasty things about immigrants, he says that the sight of grown men kicking a ball about is one that always brings a lump to his throat.
So, to celebrate the impending start of the new season, we're off to the shop at the end of the road to steal a few cans of lager. We'll then call in on our favourite fast-food restaurant to treat ourselves to a couple of delicious cheeseburgers, before heading to the pub, to have a game of darts, and try and get some unsuspecting French tourists to buy us both a drink.
All in all, we reckon that life is looking good again, and as the boy rightly says: IT'S ABOUT FUCKING TIME!